Page 25 of Fake It 'Til You Feel It

“Nathan,” I whisper, my voice shaky. His name is the only thing on my mind.

He carefully disentangles himself from my legs and stands, his strong arm wrapping around my waist to steady me. Still in my heels, I feel even wobblier than I should.Damn dress code.I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from the… workout. He grins, and his mouth claims mine in a kiss that’s fierce and consuming. The taste of me still lingers on his lips as he presses my back against the cool metal railing.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands sliding over my hips. “How much I’ve wanted you.”

I feel the tips of his fingers dig into the soft curve above my hips, gripping like he wants to leave fingerprints. I make a small noise of need in response, too far gone to think, let alone stop him.

My hands clutch his shirt, my body arching into his as he kisses me again, deeper. He lifts me effortlessly, and my legs wrap around his waist. The feel of him pressing against me through the thin barrier of our clothes sends another rush of heat through me. Fuck, he feels so good.

“Nathan, wait,” I manage, my voice raspy. My eyes desperately search our immediate surroundings, expecting someone to walk in on us.

His grin is wicked, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. “I want them to see.” His voice is low and possessive, a growl that makes my pulse race. “I want them to see who you belong to.”

The words ignite something reckless in me, drowning out every warning in my head. His hands drag up my thighs, teasing along the lace of my underwear before slipping beneath it, his fingers stroking the heat of me with slow, torturous precision. A deep groan rumbles in his chest, vibrating against my lips as he breathes me in.

“Fuck, Dana.” His voice is ragged, nearly breaking. “You’re soaking for me.”

His fingers slide through my slickness, dragging a needy whimper from my throat.

“Please,” I gasp, arching into his touch. “More.”

That’s all it takes. He presses deeper, finding the spot that has me clutching at his shoulders, my moans barely stifled against his neck. His free hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back as he watches me unravel, eyes dark and ravenous.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Let me hear you.”

I do. I can’t help it.

His name spills from my lips, a desperate, breathless plea as he works me higher, faster, until my body clenches around his fingers and I come undone, gasping, shuddering, melting into him. He curses, his forehead pressing to mine, his fingers slowing but not leaving me, like he can’t bear to let go.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls, his lips crashing into mine like he needs to claim every sound I make.

Before we can go further, he pulls back, his breathing labored. His gaze flicks around the dimly lit deck, his jaw tightening.

“This isn’t enough,” he admits, voice raw and wanting. “Not even close.”

As if making a decision, his attention snaps back to me, heat simmering behind it.

“But we can’t continue this here,” he murmurs, his grip flexing against my skin, like he has to force the words out. “Let’s take this somewhere private... unless you prefer an audience.”

I nod, unable to find words, and he lifts me effortlessly against him, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. His grip is secure under my thighs, holding me flush to his front as he strides below deck with purpose that leaves no room for doubt.

Every step is deliberate, unhurried, like he’s savoring the feeling of me in his arms, the way my body presses against his, the heat between us impossible to ignore.

My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, my lips grazing his jaw as I murmur his name—a plea, a promise, a surrender.

When the door to the master suite closes behind us, he’s on me again, his hands and mouth igniting a fire that consumes every rational thought.

I don’t hesitate when he sets me down, his hands guiding me to kneel in front of him at the bed’s edge. A flicker of panic rushes through me. What if the dress gets damaged?

I glance up at him through my lashes, about to voice the thought, but when my eyes meet his, I forget the question entirely. His gaze burns with intent, his fingers already working at his belt with an unhurried confidence that makes my breath catch. The soft click of metal sends a delicious thrill through me. It’ll probably be fine.

His thumb brushes over my lip, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding. “Open, Dana.” There’s no time to second guess before his thumb applies the faintest pressure, tugging my jaw down with a silent demand. “Now.”

I obey, parting my lips for him. He doesn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes, and my pulse quickens at the realization he’s just as undone as I am. The weight of him is intoxicating, the thick heat of him nudging against my tongue before he slides into my mouth. His groan is deep, a guttural sound that settles low in my stomach as his free hand threads through my hair, his tight grip making me moan around him.

His breathing stutters as he moves, slow at first, measured—like he’s savoring every second, every slick glide. A shiver rolls through him and his hold tightens, his pace shifting into something more deliberate, more consuming.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice taut with pleasure. “Good girl.”

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